


The Hitchhiker

by VMarsLover



Category: Shadowhunters (TV), The Mortal Instruments (Movies), The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: AU, All Human, Alternate Universe - Dark, Alternate Universe - Mortal, Angst, Blood and Violence, Complete, Dark, Death, F/M, Guns, Hitchhiker, Hitchhiking, Human, Jace Wayland is a Herondale, Jonathan Morgenstern - Freeform, LA, MortalInstruments, Murder, OOC, Out of Character, POV Clary Fray, POV Jace Wayland, Post-Book Series: The Mortal Instruments, Protective Clary Fray, Protective Jace Wayland, Shooting Guns, Violence, Vmarslover, clace, clary - Freeform, clary fray - Freeform, herondale - Freeform, jace - Freeform, knifes, tmi, truck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-12
Updated: 2021-01-22
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:40:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25856029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VMarsLover/pseuds/VMarsLover
Summary: Jace Herondale is always on the move; otherwise, he'll be caught. He spends his days picking up hitchhikers, who he robs and kills. On his last day of being in LA, he meets a tiny red hair who will change things for him. *Now rated M* No graphics, mentions of murder and sex. 3 Parts/All HUMAN/AU/OOC/Complete
Relationships: Clary Fray/Jace Wayland
Kudos: 7





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note: Hello everyone. Decided I am going to post a few of my stories on this site as well. This one was originally post in April, on fan fiction.  
> Feel free to check out my other works on there.  
> I also have an Ig account vmarslover where I post special previews and pictures of my stories.  
> I do not own the Mortal Instruments, or the song used. All song lyrics are in italics. I am no professional, so expect spelling and grammar errors. Enjoy!

_The Hitchhiker: Part 1 (3.0K)_

I rub my face trying to ease the soreness of the punch I received last night while applying concealer onto the dark purple bruise. That nerd last night had more fight in him than I expected. I quickly get dressed, grab my to-go bag, slam the house's door, and fish my key out of my coat pocket before locking the door.

I climb into my red pickup truck, where my mind runs through the events of the previous night. Last night did not go as planned, and failure to bring Valentine what he wants will haunt me when he finds out. I pull at my blonde hair as I run my fingers through it with frustration. I can not fail tonight; it is not an option for me. Valentine will have my head; I must deliver.

I start the truck and reverse out of the driveway; I look at the house that I have lived in for a couple of weeks; soon, I will no longer live here; staying too long will get me caught. Not having anyone who cares about me for so long allowed me to create a hard exterior, so continuously moving is rather easy since nothing is holding me here.

* * *

I drive along the highway for miles, and I come up empty. After 2 hours, I pull over and aggressively slam my arms against the steering wheel. This cannot be happening to me, not again. I manage to fish a cigarette out of my pocket and light it. This is ridiculous, it is the middle of summer, and it's hotter than hell in California. There is always someone walking towards LA trying to be the next Jamie Bower or Lily Collins and attempting to catch a ride. Personally, finding women is a lot easier since I can flirt with them and get what I want without it being suspicious. Last night I only saw men, and when I picked up one named Simon, he didn't have enough stuff on him for me to pay Valentine.

Every victim of mine ends up the same, unfound. I am invisible; the authorities have no idea who I am. That's how good I am. I never use my real name, always moving, and the bodies aren't discovered until I am already gone. I have been in LA for 5 weeks, and none of my 15 victims have been found. I remember each life I take, and I remember little facts about each of them. Simon went to MIT until his parents stopped supporting him when he decided he wanted to be in a band instead. Luke was an older man trying to find a place to start over. Aline ran away from her parents to try and hunt down an old girlfriend. I don't have remorse for any of them, it's survival of the fittest, and I got to survive Valentine, and they are the cost.

Valentine has been in my life since I was 15 years old when my parents died. During that time, I started robbing people, and I made the mistake of taking from Valentine, and now he uses my skills of being unseen to his advantage.

* * *

I toss the cigarette out the window and flick my signal on and continue on my way. I left my house 8 hours ago, and I am still empty-handed, and I am only 4 hours away from LA now from all my circling back. It is almost sunset when I see a small figure in the distance. I push my foot harder on the accelerator.

As I get closer, I see flaming red hair that belongs to a tiny girl who has her thumb out.

I pull over beside her and unlock the door, and she climbs in.

"You know you are too young to be climbing into a stranger's car," I say, and she looks towards me, and my heart stops for the first time ever, and I find myself falling into her deep green eyes.

"Same could be said for you; you do not know me. For all you know, I could be an axe murderer," she says while fasting her seatbelt. This makes me smiles; she has no clue the danger she is in.

"You are five foot nothing; I have nothing to worry about. What's your name?" I ask.

"I am Clary, and you are?"

"Jace, where are you heading?" I only ever give my victims my nickname, never my real name.

"LA ran away from a damaged home."

It is then I realize the bruises on her arms, and I don't comment on them and instead pull back onto the freeway.

* * *

As we drive, we chat, and I find out she was in foster care, which means no one will miss her. She always wanted to do something with her art but hasn't had time. After an hour, she begs me to pull over for food, and I obey. We stop at a diner called Taki's; it is a cute little 50's diner with red booths with a retro design. For the first time in my life, I feel I have a connection with someone, and she is a stranger who I am supposed to kill by the end of the night.

I tell her very vague things about my childhood and use the lies I've embedded into my mind to keep the conversation going. All of her questions are very general, and it is easy to follow along.

That is until she finally catches me off guard with, "So where's the girlfriend?" I freeze and remain still. "Or a boyfriend? I don't judge," she continues.

I glance at her, and my mouth feels so dry, and I manage to answer with, "definitely not gay, and I've never had one."

Her eyes go wide, and she leans forward, brushing her hands across mine, and a spark zaps us both.

"You are like 26, and you have never had a girlfriend? What have you been doing in LA?" she asks.

I shrug and reply with "23 actually, and I occupy my time with better things."

"So, you don't get laid? Like what hot 23-year-old is not hitting the clubs with his buddies picking up girls."

"See that is different; sex is meaningless, I've had enough of it to know that as a fact. Relationships aren't for me."

"Have you tried one?" She asks.

"I did, once. In like the 5th grade."

She laughs and flashes me a bright smile and says, "grade 5 relationships don't count. You, my friend, need one."

Before I have a chance to reply, our food arrives, and we eat in silence until Clary finishes her meal and excuses herself to the restroom.

How did this tiny girl beat me in eating and ask for dessert? A couple of minutes pass, and I finish eating, and Clary hasn't returned. This is when regret sinks in, and I realize I messed up. She might've gotten away, and I'll be screwed for tomorrow. I jump from the booth and race to the back of the diner, and I hear yelling. I find myself running faster when I hear Clary's voice yell, "Let me go." I turn the corner and see a tall bearded man holding onto her arm, trying to pull her towards the closet.

I walk up to them, taking long strides and quickly grab his arm and push him towards the wall. "Never lay a hand on her again," I whisper into his ear.

And I let him go, and he stands up straight, but his punches are too slow, and I quickly move, and the drunk hit the wall and screams in agony. Then I finish him off with a knee to the head and knocking his soft head, and he goes unconscious and goes tumbling down.

I turn towards Clary, and she has a completely blank look on her face. I grab her hand, and she looks up to me and does the unexpected.

"Why did you help me? I had it under control," I am taken back.

"You did not have it under control. He was drunk, and he has like 150 pounds on you; he could have crushed you."

She shrugs and quietly whispers, "would not be the first time." I shake my head. Sure, I wasn't expecting the girl I would kill to thank me, but I did not expect her to be mad at me.

"Fine, whatever, can we go now?" I ask, and she nods, and we walk up to the counter, and I pay the bill. Then together, we step out.

* * *

We climb into the truck in silence, and we stay like that with the radio on. Until I finally turn my head and look at Clary. Her red hair is everywhere. She is dressed in short button-up jean shorts, with a white t-shirt. From there, I glance at her arms, and I see the bruises that were there earlier, but I can also see new ones beginning to form. I am about to tell her when she cuts me off by turning the radio and starts dancing and singing.

_I just wanna stay in the sun where I find  
I know it's hard sometimes.  
Pieces of peace in the sun's peace of mind  
I know it's hard sometimes.  
Yeah, I think about the end just way too much.  
But it's fun to fantasize.  
On my enemies who wouldn't wish who I was  
But it's fun to fantasize._

_Oh, oh, I'm falling, so I'm taking my time on my ride.  
Oh, I'm falling, so I'm taking my time on my ride.  
Taking my time on my ride_

As she sings, she is dancing as best she can and drumming on the dash.

_"I'd die for you," that's easy to say  
We have a list of people that we would take.  
A bullet for them, a bullet for you  
A bullet for everybody in this room  
But I don't seem to see many bullets coming through  
See many bullets coming through  
Metaphorically, I'm the man.  
But literally, I don't know what I'd do.  
"I'd live for you," and that's hard to do  
Even harder to say when you know, it's not true.  
Even harder to write when you know that tonight  
There were people back home who tried talking to you.  
But then you ignored them still.  
All these questions they're for real.  
Like, "Who would you live for?"  
"Who would you die for?"  
And "Would you ever kill?"_

_Oh, oh, I'm falling, so I'm taking my time on my ride.  
Oh, I'm falling, so I'm taking my time on my ride.  
Taking my time on my ride_

This girl is amazing, she sings with so much heart, and she looks fantastic while doing it.

_I've been thinking too much.  
I've been thinking too much  
I've been thinking too much  
I've been thinking too much  
(help me)  
I've been thinking too much (I've been thinking too much)  
I've been thinking too much (Help me)  
I've been thinking too much (I've been thinking too much)  
I've been thinking too much_

_Oh, oh, I'm falling, so I'm taking my time on my ride  
Oh, I'm falling, so I'm taking my time  
Taking my time on my ride_

_Oh, oh, I'm falling, so I'm taking my time on my ride  
Oh, I'm falling, so I'm taking my time on my_

_I've been thinking too much  
Help me  
I've been thinking too much  
Help me_

_I've been thinking too much (I've been thinking too much)  
I've been thinking too much (help me)  
I've been thinking too much (I've been thinking too much)  
I've been thinking too much  
Help me_

This song hits me hard once she's done. Help me. Does she need me to help her? I cannot believe my mind is considering this, but I want to help her. She is such a free spirit, and I want all the good for her.

Before I can change my mind, I pull over, put the truck in park, lean over, and take her hand. Yet again, there is a spark, and I ask her, "Can I kiss you"? Before I can talk myself out of it.

I never get a reply from her, and instead, her lips attack mine, and her hands run through my hair, and she is driving me crazy. She tastes like cherries from the pie, and it is incredible. My hands grab her waist, pulling her as close to me as possible.

I could've done like this for the entirety, but eventually, we pull away, and we gasp for air.

"Wow," she says in between pants.

"Geez, wow is right" I manage to get out between breaths. My heart is beating out of control.

I have yet to let her go, and she does not fight to get out of my arms. She smells like roses, a little odd for someone who has been walking with no shelter for a couple of days.

"I don't make it a habit of kissing guys; I don't know." She says, and I laugh.

"Don't think we are strangers anymore."

"Now, what are we going to do?" She asks.

"Well, I don't feel like driving anymore. How about we stop at a motel for the night?"

Clary doesn't answer, only nods, and 10 minutes later, I pull over to the motel. Typically, this is how I usually do these things. Bring people to a hotel, never my home. And have them killed there since it is easier to remove my DNA than in my house.

We reach the motel, and we walk up to the desk; standing there is a tall blonde, my usual type.

"Welcome to the Institute. What can I help you folks with tonight?" The blonde asks, fluttering her eyelashes on me; usually, I'd find this attractive, but it's revolting right now.

"Uh, just a room with two beds, please."

"Oh, sorry, sugar, only rooms with one bed are available. Is that going to be a problem?" she asks, looking between us.

Before I have a chance to answer, Clary beats me to it and answers with "no problem at all," and she reaches into her bag, pulling out a credit card. I can't let that be traced back to her. I jump in front of her, pulling mine out and tapping the keypad first. I turn around all charming and smile at her. She glares back at me.

I take the keys from the hostess, and she slips me a paper with her name and number and gives me a wink before walking into the back.

"Wow, does that happen a lot?" Clary asks.

"Pretty much. I am used to it," and we walk towards the room together. I tap the key, and the door clicks, and we walk inside.

The place is simple, one king bed. Windows with a balcony, the bathroom is right by the door.

"I am going to shower," Clary says and rushes in. Now I am left with my demons.

Do I have to hurt her? I have never felt feelings about anyone and cared about their welfare. She gives me hope for change. She has such light in her, and I don't think I can extinguish it as I am battling myself—my cell rings. Only one person has this number.

I answer with, "yes, sir?"

"Have you got the money and passports?" Valentine asks.

"Yes, I do. I just had a little hiccup, I will have them to you tomorrow night."

"Excellent, we'll decide then where you'll go next. Be prepared in 24 hours for a flight."

I reply with "Yes, sir." and Valentine hangs up.

Well, that blew things up. I don't have time to find someone else. That call sealed Clary's fate. I'll have to get rid of her in the morning before I leave, but I want to be human and experience these emotions until then.

* * *

After we are both showered, we climb into bed, and I can not sleep, and I have difficulty trying too. I don't know this wonderful girl will no longer be alive in 12 hours, and it will be all my fault.

"Jace? Are you still awake?" she whispers.

"Yes, I am," I mumble.

"Will you kiss me?" and it is like she knows it'll be the last time, and I don't think about it twice. I quickly roll on top of her smashing our lips together, and a moan escapes her lips, and her legs wrap around my waist, pulling me tightly in. Quickly, our clothes are gone. Then once we are done, we both fall into bliss. This girl will be the death of me.

* * *

After I dispose of her, I cry, for the first time ever, I did not even cry when my parents died, but when I had to kill this girl, I broke. I am a monster. I walk to my truck, and on the way, I am hit by a car.  
It is then I awake from my dream. This time, I am living a nightmare. I wake up to Clary on top of me, pressing a knife into my throat, quickly drawing blood.

"I told you I might be a murderer, and I wasn't lying. You should not have underestimated me". This is when I realize I have been played.

_TO BE CONTINUED....._

* * *

**AN:**

**I also do not own the song "Ride" by Twenty one pilots.**


	2. Part 2

**AN: Thank you all for so much support on Part 1. I personally enjoyed how the first part ended, but I also knew how the story ended. So for those of you who wanted more, you finally got it.**

**Several months later.**

**Where I have since written several TMI stories all AU in this time.**

**This part is dedicated to Kazzo96 for her request for this story!**

**I have changed the rating from T to M since this one is a bit darker.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own TMI, nor do I have a beta. So ignore grammar and spelling.**

* * *

The Hitchhiker: Part 2 (4.9K) 

Clary's POV 

I squeeze my legs tightly around his body, holding him in place as a press my knife deep into his throat, drawing blood.

The last few hours have been a train wreck.

First, my day started with me leaving behind my home of the last few weeks by burning the trailer I had been staying in. I had come accustom to my routine of being in L.A, until I received word I need to be out, so as soon so as I showered, I left, leaving no trace behind in case someone gets smart and connects the dots to me. This is routine, so whenever I choose a new place, I make sure it is far enough from everyone else, so when I light it up, it doesn't burn their homes.

I leave armed with my small bag with a few of my belongings that I don't keep in storage worldwide. Valentine would be disappointed if he knew I have become sentimental.

I have pepper spray in the waistband of my shorts and my pocketknife in my front pocket, so it isn't obvious. It is too hot to have the gun in my waist, so it stays in my gun along with my big knife.

I spend the day walking to the highway and walking up to it in hopes of finding someone to pick me up.

My job is easy, find someone, kill them, take what they have, and leave.

Simple.

Until today.

The guy who picks me up is the most gorgeous person I have ever seen. His hair is like gold, and I have a strong urge to reach out and run my hands through them. His eyes stare at me with such intensity I find myself being drawn in more and more.

I want him, not just because of his looks, well, let's be honest, that is apart of it, But he seems like a straight-up guy who generally feels concerned for me.

So, I warn him repeatedly, trying to scare him off by telling him I could be an axe murder. Which isn't far off from what I am; I prefer knives.

He ignores my warnings, leaving me with very little choice.

Then he buys me food, and it's like the entrance to my soul where butterflies fill my body with warmth and affection. Having someone look after me is something different for me, and it doesn't stop there. Jace comes and helps me get away from the drunk guy, even though I don't need the help. But little does he know I don't need help.

I have dealt with worse.

From there on, I do the unthinkable.

I ask him to kiss me.

So, we kiss for the second time that night.

Then fall into bed together.

It was the best night of my life.

That's what makes this more horrible as I stand above him in his last moments a few hours later.

I never slept. I laid awake thinking.

Since after 12 years, I have seemed to have grown a conscious.

I can't kill him.

But I have to.

Survival of the fittest.

The next thing I know, he pushes into the knife and tells me to do it.

I freeze; this man seems full of life. Why would he ask me that?

The next thing I know, I am being tossed on my back, and the knife is ripped from my hand since he caught me off guard.

"Who sent you?" he growls in my face as his face transforms into a totally different man from what I saw yesterday. Instead of carefree and happy, he is now dark and cold. This is not the man I slept with.

"No one sent me," I answer, and then I realize how strange that question is, "What do you mean who? Why would someone be after you?" as soon as I ask, he presses the knife to my neck for the first time.

He glares down at me with his gold eyes now like dark coal, but he does answer with, "Not your business; why are you trying to kill me?"

I roll my eyes; of course, he can't be the villain and give away his plan, so I answer with, "Work, nothing personal."

He lessens his hold on the knife slightly but doesn't lift it.

"So, are you going to kill me or not? There is only so long a girl can be on her back before she becomes bored and needs to be on top."

He rolls his eyes, and he lowers his guard enough for me to lift my legs that haven't been pinned down and use all my strength to rock my body in one swift movement sending Jace and myself off the bed.

He is caught by surprise as he goes off the bed as well, and when we crash to the floor, Jace groans and loosens his grip. I snap off the ground so quickly, and Jace grabs my leg. I kick him in the balls as he lays on the ground and let's go of my leg as he curses.

I rush to the corner of the room and dig through my bag, pulling my Glock 17 out and pointing it at Jace, where apparently, he had the same idea and recovered enough to find a gun and is now pointing to what looks like some Smith & Wesson.

"Now what?" I ask, not taking my eyes off him.

He opens his mouth to answer, but his phone starts ringing, causing us both to freeze.

"Answer it," I say, and he raises an eyebrow at me, then slowly moves to the nightstand and grabs his cell.

If he doesn't make it out of this, then at least if he answers the phone now, it'll give me more time before someone realizes he is missing.

Since he doesn't have a girlfriend.

"Yes," he says into the phone.

"I am working on it."

"Yes, sir."

So not a mom.

"Yes, sir."

His eyes flutter over to me, and he says, "I will be there; I got caught up in something."

I now raise an eyebrow, glad he has confidence he is getting out of here, and he won't die thinking otherwise.

Then suddenly hangs up, and we stare at each other, not moving, keeping our guns aimed at each other until my phone also starts blaring.

"Can I answer it?" I ask in case I move, and he becomes trigger happy.

However, he does nod, and I become confused by his actions and question why he'd let me. Then I realize it is probably, so no one is missing me.

Oh, how romantic.

I fish my phone from my back pocket and answer without glancing at the ID because only one person has this named.

"Sir," I answer, and Jace narrows his eyes at me.

"I need you out of LA in a few hours, need to move up the timeline, come meet me in Nashville for a reunion dinner."

He causes me to roll my eyes, and I reply with, "Then you'll give me my end of the deal?"

"Only if you bring what I require; if not, you know what happens." He says, and I hold back the shivers that threaten to crawl down by the back of what he might do.

Bad thoughts.

"Yes, sir," I say because either Jace leaves this room or I do. If he has a conscience, he will become more hesitant to hurt someone with a family, and if he knows I have a family, he might be more inclined to let me go. I want a fair fight because, honestly, going back to my father seems like a nightmare that I don't think I can handle anymore. Not many fathers torture, drug, and threaten their children at a young age and force them to become their personal murderers.

"Don't disappoint me again; you know what will happen," and he hangs up.

I sigh and slide the phone into my pocket, not breaking eye contact with Jace encase he tries something.

Then I do the unthinkable, I move without warning him, and he doesn't shoot.

Interesting.

I grab my bag and start shaking it out onto the bed, trying to find the book I feel on the bottom. I put it out and flip it open, exposing the hollow area.

As I do, this Jace continues to watch but makes no effort to stop me.

Good to know I got under his skin as well.

I began unrolling all the bills and laying them all on the bed, counting each, hoping I have at least 7,000 since I have 3,000 stored away already. As I dig around, Jace finally asks me, "What are you doing? This is not the time to be counting."

"Well, if I don't have enough money, you might as well kill me because it will be a better ending for me," I admit and continue going.

"What do you mean?"

"Be quiet and let me do this in peace. This is none of your business."

"I can help you," he says, and I can't help but burst out laughing.

"You think you can help me. Oh, honey. You are mistaken because I am your enemy so treat me like one."

"How much do you need?" he asks, and I laugh again.

"I need 10,000 in the next few hours. I only have 3,000 here, and the rest is hidden if I don't bring it to him; I'm dead anyway unless you have another 4,000 laying around."

He drops his gun and reaches into his pocket and pulls out a stack, and tosses it at me, and I catch it before it hits the floor.

"Are you for real?" I ask because this is becoming too weird. Apparently, sleeping with a mark makes them more vulnerable.

He shrugs and answers with, "I propose that as my peaceful gesture, and it might get me killed, but at least it won't be in this motel room."

"Okay, truce," and I began gathering my things from the bed.

"I am, however, curious as to why you need that much money."

"You don't get to know those answers."

"Were you just planning to kill and rob me?" He then asks.

"Yes, I was, and it wasn't personal. It is survival of the fittest; I am doing this for a better life and protecting my mom. I will do anything for her, even if it means hurting you, so don't be offended. You aren't innocent either; no one carries that much cash without being involved in something sketchy." I answer, and I see him look deep into my eyes, probably trying to find my soul of the little girl that died long ago.

"Are you by chance going to Nashville?" he asks, and I am completely taken back by the question that I find myself frozen.

"What makes you assume that?" I ask, and I lift myself from the bed stuff the cash back into the book.

"I also think you find someone, kill them, take their belongs and flee then as your job."

I raise my gun again, not liking where this is going, "How could you possibly know this is my job?"

"You work for Valentine" hearing his name sends shivers down my spine that this time I can't hold back.

"How'd you-" and I stop myself mid-sentence before I give more away.

I didn't even answer anything.

I also didn't deny anything.

He raises his hands in a surrender gesture and says, "We clearly work for the same person with the same memo and meeting place. I don't think taking each other out is a good idea since Valentine will be pissed."

"Tell me one thing, how'd you end up roped into Valentine's world?" I ask,

Still not putting my gun down.

He shrugs and says, "I robbed him once, now I owe him."

I roll my eyes because that's definitely something he'd use as leverage.

"Let me guess you were a kid," I say.

"15," and he confirms my suspicions. Yep, my father is a real treat and takes kids and turns them into weapons.

"You follow a pattern he has. He makes it seem like he's your only option, and he takes all your kindness and destroys it. And from what I gather, you've some bits of humanity left in you since you saved me from that guy and the way you looked at me when you noticed my bruises. There was a part of you that saw me as a person rather than a mark."

He stays frozen, and it is like I can see smoke coming from his ears as his brain is going into overdrive over how much he has given away about himself.

"What about you? How'd you end up working under Valentine?" and I know I should've expected the question, but it still stings, and I only flinch slightly as the memories all start replying in my mind.

"If you didn't hear, I don't work for him after I give him the rest of the money."

He rolls his eyes and says, "That's not what I meant, and you know it."

Yeah, bud, because I am going to tell you all about how he took me from my sick mother and beat me into submission.

"He knew my mother back in the day, and when she got sick, he paid for her treatment." This is a half-truth, expect Valentine, and my agreement is that he'll pay for the rest of her treatment forever if I gather a certain amount of money for him. This is the last 10,000, and I am free.

Or at least I hope I am free. I wouldn't put it past the man for backstabbing me. Then an idea hits me.

"How much do you owe him?" I ask Jace, and after all this time, I still keep my gun aimed, which he seems to have accepted at this point.

Jace looks at me with narrowed eyes then answers with, "Too much, probably another 4 years."

I nod, and just maybe my plan will work as I press my finger to the trigger and a shot ring out.

What's a little more blood on my hands?

* * *

I walk into the warehouse in Nashville with the money all in hundreds in my bag in a duffle bag along with my Glock and Jace' Smith on my hip hidden by his oversized leather jacket, with my new blood-stained white t-shirt and black jeans since I am no longer in L.A. Plus it is easier to hide knives in my boots, and pockets rather than jean shorts.

"You made it," Valentine states from the end of the long oak dining table, looking at the bruise on my face and the blood on my clothing then glances over to my shoulder where I imagine he is trying to determine if there is blood in my hair.

There is definitely some in there.

I plant myself in the chair across from him and begin mixing the broth in front of me, and I say, "Not sure why you are surprised; I always finish."

"Usually, you are late, but this time you are rather early."

"A whole 5 minutes, don't get used to it," I say as Valentine looks down at his watch.

"Expecting someone else?" I ask.

"Another one of my employees and your brother will probably show up high," and I nod, even though I am annoyed by Valentine being so harsh on Jon for his pill problem since the addiction started because of Valentine, where it became Jon's way of coping. Meanwhile, I don't cope; I bottle things, so they don't hurt me.

Solid plan.

Don't feel, can't get hurt.

"Could you maybe change? You are wearing someone's blood on you."

I roll my eyes and drop my fork dramatically, glancing at the blood covering patches of my hand before looking him dead in the eyes and say, "You asked me to kill to get the money, so deal with it."

"Usually, you clean up before you show up."

I shrug and say, "I want you to see what you have turned me into and that this blood is on your hands, not mine."

He now rolls his eyes and says, "Really, Clarissa? What makes this person so different that you must turn up like this?"

"His gold eyes will haunt me since he was so kind to me. He even saved me, and for what? For me to take my knife and slit his throat. So, therefore, I want you to see the blood you spilled."

He stares at me, then glances at his watch, and then I watch a look of horror reach his face, then he turns back to me and asks, "Did he have blonde hair?"

I nod and take a sip of my red wine as Valentine becomes really pale.

"What name did he go by?"

I set my glass down and look up, meeting his eyes from across the table, and I smile as I answer him by saying, "Jace."

His face becomes a look of horror, and I smirk.

"How is that possible?" he whispers. Glad to know he had such confidence in me.

"It wasn't easy, but it worked out. Why so glum chum?" I ask as I twist my spaghetti around my fork.

Valentine continues to stare at me in disbelieve, and I smirk.

Take that old man.

That's what happens when you train a killer.

Kill or be killed.

I continue to eat my dinner with a smile on my face. I almost finish my mashed potatoes when Valentine finally snaps out of his shock, and instead of looking through me, he is looking at me. Then he says, "Where is he now?"

I raise an eyebrow and answer him with, "Some ocean soon."

Then suddenly, the door of the warehouse slams, and I turn around and see my brother stumble in with a bottle in hand. So, drunk, not high.

Somehow he marshes to the table and slams the bottle down, causing everything to raddle, as he stands in the middle of the both of us then he looks at me for the first time with a big grin on his face, and I can finally get a good look at him. His almost white hair has been cut to fall just below his eyes, and as I look into his eyes, I can barely see the red because of how closely they are. Okay, I take it back; he is drunk and high.

"Little sis, joining the party," he slurs, then continues with, "Who are you wearing because that doesn't look like Louis Vuitton" and he chuckles to himself.

"I'm wearing Jace," and I watch Valentine flinch again.

Glad to know Jace's soft spot for Valentine wasn't one-sided.

Jon looks at me, trying to see if I'm serious, then bursts out laughing and says, "Oh my god, this is gold. You killed Jace Herondale?" he then spins to Valentine and peels over laughing, and I wouldn't be surprised if he begins rolling on the floor and laughing.

I keep myself under control and take a sip of my wine finishing the glass, and Hodge, the butler, comes out and tops up my glass. I stare into the dark red glass, and it reminds me of Jace's blood covering my hands, his shirt and probably knotted in my hair.

I snap myself out of thought and look at my father, looking furious as Jon continues to laugh, and I roll my eyes because yet again, my father is responsible for Jon's addiction.

Finally, he loses it and screams, "Will you cut it out? I lost a son today, and you are bellyaching over it with such enjoyment it makes me want to slice your throat."

Amazingly Jon manages to pick himself off the ground, and grip onto it with two hands and says, "It's okay daddy, dearest, you still have me," he still slurs and flutters his eyes at him, causing Valentine to roll his eyes and throw his own whisky back.

Valentine then retorts with, "You both are a disappointment to this family; you bring misfortune. Look at you, I give you all the training, and you still fail me time and time again. All you do is party and do drugs, Jonathan. Why haven't I just killed you is beyond me." Then he turns to me and continues, "Then you off and kill the best thing that has ever happened to me. He respected me and did what I wanted. Something you have never done, and I didn't have to waste my time training him into submission. He was the perfect soldier that I will never find again."

What happens next surprises even me because Valentine shoots up from his seat and aims his gun at me. We see where I stand.

He would've preferred Jace had killed me.

I relax in my seat, resting my arms on the rests and stare at him before saying, "Oh father, you really want to kill the girl who was good enough to take down your apparent "son," singlehandedly without much of scratch to herself."

He lowers his gun and says, "You freaking screwed him, didn't you? You got into his pants and took advantage of him"

I now roll my eyes and cross my arms over my chest and sarcastically say, "Glad you are so concerned over the possibility that he could've taken advantage of me." I pause and wait for him to speak, and when he doesn't, I continue with, "I see that your priorities are with the dead guy." Okay, maybe a little low.

But then again.

He is the one who told me it was 'Kill or be killed.'

I had decided in that motel I need to live for my mom.

The choice was kill.

I lean back in my chair with Jon in the middle watching the showdown, and Valentine sits back down, and we sit in silence as Jon finally pulls out a chair and practically falls into it as I take another sip of wine.

The taste hits my tongue, and I immediately pull the glass away and spit what I can back into the glass.

He tried to drug me.

AGAIN.

I slam the glass down, and it shatters in my hand, and the new blood covers the old blood as I shoot daggers with my eyes at the man I am somehow related to.

"You tried to drug me again; seriously, what the hell? I brought you the money, did your bidding for YEARS. I have been perfect. Why are you trying to drug me?"

He takes a drink of his water and looks me dead in the eye as he says, "I can't let you leave the room alive. You are no longer useful to me without the contract. I felt it would be more, what's the word" and he looks to the ceiling for the answer causing me to roll my eyes, "more comfortable if we just drugged you with something nontraceable and throw you over a bridge."

I can't say I didn't expect that.

Kill or be killed.

I raise from my seat only to be suddenly restrained by two men who think it's a good idea to push me to the ground where I can now access the knives are in my boot.

I pull one out and slit one of their throats with ease and stab the other in the leg before stepping back and winking at my father.

He gives me a questionable expression, then reaches into his jacket pocket to grab his gun from his seat when he is suddenly ripped from the chair and thrown to the floor by his favourite son.

Jace points a Ruger LCP at my father, who lays on the ground dazed by the recent turn of events.

"I was starting to think you were going to leave me high and dry here," I say to him before dusting myself off and walking over to that end of the table with Jon still sitting there eating away as if nothing happened.

Jace shakes his head now and says, "I wasn't sure when was a good time for me to appear from the shadows, and we agreed as soon as blood was shed."

Valentine finally recovers mentally and looks at Jace with wide eyes and whispers, "What are you doing?"

Jace laughs and answers with, "I am doing something for myself. See your daughter here," now he looks at me in the eyes, not moving his gun and continues with, "who actually never told me about your biological connection. It actually reminded me that I wasn't always a cold-blooded killer; you turned me into this. I am done; I am out. You literally admitted I was just a gun for hire."

Valentine frantically shakes his head," I was literally mourning your death; I was going to end here because she took you."

I now stand beside Jace, where I can examine his face, and although he tries to hide it, I can see the sparks of pain flicking in his eyes.

I reach over and lower the gun trained on Valentine, where Jace looks at me again, and I realize my decision is right. He has a single tear escaping from his eye, and my heart pings slightly with guilt.

Valentine shifts once Jace tucks his gun away, and I quickly draw mine and shoot him twice in the chest, causing Jace to jump and for Jon to drop his fork finally. I look towards him see him wide-eyed with his mouth wide open full of mashed potatoes. Meanwhile, Jace stands frozen beside me.

Kill or be killed. Guess that wasn't a lesson taught to him.

I move away and walk towards where Valentine fell as he begins to cough up blood.

I kneel beside him and whisper in his ear, "Gotcha."

He smirks as he coughs blood up, "Who's paying for your mother, then?"

I smile and flutter my eyelashes, "It pays off to have transferred all the money out of your accounts and shuffled it around and was donated several hours ago in her name. So, you don't own me; I beat you."

He looks blankly and continues to cough, and I draw my gun again, and before I can press the trigger, someone else does it, putting a bullet right between his eyes.

I look to my left where the shot came from, and I see Jon standing there, gun in hand.

"Wow," is all I can say, and he laughs.

"Don't worry, sis, I got you," and he winks, then moves towards me and stumbles, falling over another dining chair.

I roll my eyes; okay, it was impressive for two seconds.

I turn towards Jace and see him look at the body of my father, emotionless. I walk over and place my hand on his and lookup meeting his gaze. Where, although his face is emotionless, giving nothing away, something I imagine my own face matches the expression since it's something I was trained to do. As I look into his eyes, they tell a different story, where I see sorrow and conflict.

As much as it pains me because I am uncomfortable, I wrap my arms around his waist, hugging him. Where he melts into the embrace, it is weird that I am the one comforting him. Valentine was my father; I helped kill him, and yet. I feel relief. I am free. My mother will be taken care of.

What else is there for me?

Why would I mourn the man who destroyed me and took what made me human?

He taught me to bury my feelings and feel nothing.

The ability to mourn is non-existent now.

So, jokes on him, he gets nothing else from me.

'Kill or be killed' echoes in my head.

He was right.

But he was the one killed.

It is my life now.

One thing he failed to take while beating me was my ability to love.

I love my mom and would do anything for her, which is how I lasted this long in Valentine's world. I did it for her, to give her the life she needs and get her the best treatment possible.

As I look at the man beside me, I realize I also did this for him as well; I was already out and had the ability to disappear at any moment, taking my mom with me because I knew I didn't owe Valentine anything; I knew what had been done to me was wrong even though I keep the memories locked in a small box, I know they didn't just leave physical scars.

The difference between us is Jace felt he owed his life to Valentine. I changed him. I could've just let him wither away, but I stopped the cycle. I saved him. Even if I didn't love him like my mother, I saw humanity in him that I lacked in my own soul, and I wanted to preserve it before it was too late for him like it is for me. There is too much blood on my hands now for me to be normal, but maybe he has a chance.

So, the girl who has killed.

Saved someone.

Isn't it ironic?

Don't you think?

_TO BE CONTINUED..._

* * *

**AN: Haha, so who thought Jace was dead? I definitely twisted words here to mislead.**

**I really enjoy this Clary; there is just something about her.**

**Those two lines are Alanis Morissette's "Ironic" lyrics that just came out of nowhere.**

**When I thought of this story, I always knew they would both survive, and it would be Valentine who bit the dust where they would both help take him out. I personally have a bias of always wanting Clary to have a HEA, which doesn't always mean with Jace, especially with this version being unemotionally unavailable right now with how much she has bottled up and ignored over the years to protect herself. Now she is free of her father and can now run off with her mother. Then hopefully, she can heal.**

**It is left open for you to decide her fate.**

**I also just love making Jon my comic relief, by far my favourite part.**

**Questions: What do you think would happens next? Did Clary make the right move and save Jace? Will Clary heal?**

**Stay Safe!**


	3. Part 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Clary left her old life behind but it followed her and now she is continuing down a dark path.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: So, as my friend put it, part 2 was really an appetizer. There were some small plot holes left untouched because that's what I do.  
> A few of you probably saw this coming, but there is another part. I couldn't stop myself.  
> This is rated M for blood and guns; it also has some angst.  
> I dedicated this to Kazzo96 for her support :)  
> Now we are doing a time jump. There is also going to be a few flashbacks they are marked.  
> Thanks for reading! I worked so hard on each part. You have no idea, so please leave a comment and kudos. It is the last part.

* * *

The Hitchhiker: Part 3 (5.3K) 

** Clary's POV  **

I dance around the room, attempting my best smile at the old man eyeing me like a meat piece.

Sadly, that is what I want.

For months I have been playing this man and going to these parties trying to find the answers I need.

He has been useless so far.

But my contact tells me his old man will lead me to my answers.

So, for now, I play perfect weapon and sex slave.

After my father died, I told myself I would give up this kind of work, and it worked. I bleached my hands and moved on, and was happy for the first time in my life. Then my mom passed away from cancer, and I lost it, but I kept myself strong and found the courage to reconnect with my brother.

After that day in the warehouse, he managed to get clean after a few relapses, only to become 5 years clean. I was so proud, and for the first time, I felt my life was together.

Until I came home one day to find Jon dead at our dining room table all propped up for me, with a note in blood saying, "I know what you did-V."

Rage filled me, and I lost it.

I took the items that mattered to Jon and me and burned the house down.

Something I thought I would never have to do again.

But someone knew we lived in that house and had been watching because when I bought the house, we paid for it in cash, with fake names, and it is in the middle of a farm.

Going off the note, there was only one person who knew of the events besides Jon and me, and it can't be Valentine.

It was Jace Herondale.

Who I haven't seen since that night where the three of us went our separate ways.

I kept quiet and laid low, yet he came for my brother. It made no sense. Jace agreed to the plan in that motel room and did not attempt to save Valentine. It doesn't make sense, but yet my brother is dead with a note addresses by a 'V.'

Jace was more Valentine's son than Jon was, so he must have snapped.

Thinking of Jon was so heartbreaking because he was finally getting his life together, that was taken from him too soon. It should be me. I have done worse, and I don't deserve to live.

So, I don't.

I seek revenge.

So, I played the innocent daughter and got in touch with my dad's old contacts trying to hunt Jace down, but nothing. He vanished, just like me, but even I was found.

So, I don't stop looking.

Now here I am at a banquet as arm candy trying to pour secrets out of all these men and his associates while my skin continues to crawl with disgust of his skins touching my skin. When I should be used to it, I committed to the cause fully, and I will do anything to get revenge for Jon, even if it means blowing this greasy man.

Nothing is too much at this point, and I have lost a year of my life trying to solve the mystery, and I don't regret it.

As long as I can see, his life leaves his eyes.

To think, I saved his life all those years ago.

* * *

The night continues on as normal, and I feel so claustrophobic, and I have to keep reminding myself to breathe or else I will pass out.

My psycho father is frowning at me now for showing weakness.

If I weren't weak, my brother would be alive.

All because I tried to be good and let someone try to have a normal life.

Boy, was I wrong?

I was young and naive at 19, even when I had tons of life experiences then. At 29, I have killed my father, lost my mother, and my brother, who was murdered. I am colder than I ever was.

I begin being passed around as I dance filled with men on the dance floor, hoping to find Magnus Banes, the biggest crime lord, probably since my father.

My contact told me Magnus might have an idea, but I fail to find him as I am passed around, asking each man his name and continuously being disappointed by the outcome.

Finally, the air shifts and I look up to the balcony, and there stands an Asian man with silk black hair and what looks like gold eyes that remind me of a cat.

Then I see the amount of muscle behind him. I then conclude that it must be him.

As I dance around, I attempt to get a better look and unfortunately, I do.

Right behind Magnus stands my life purpose.

Jace freaking Herondale.

* * *

Upon snapping myself out of thought, I quickly excuse myself from the floor and rushing the closest bathroom to gather myself.

As I stand in front of the mirror, I analysis myself running a stressed hand through my black curled wing and look at my brown eyes. He won't recognize me, it is fine. I try to tell myself.

This is what I have wanted for the last several years.

I wanted to find him to make him suffer loss.

Now I find him, and I freeze, only to run away,

I count to 10 as I practiced in therapy. What feels like centuries ago, and exit through the bathroom doors, ready to return to the floor to watch them before making my entrance; unfortunately, I become too stuck in my head I don't pay attention and walk right into someone.

They mumble an apology, and I look up.

My heart freezes, and my hand lowers and slides a knife from underneath the sleeve of my dress.

I stand here, 29 years old, in front of the man I tried to save. Who betrayed me and stole my brother from me.

The one and only Jace Herondale.

As I look up at him, his face shows no sign of recognition, and for that, I am relieved.

So, I flutter my eyelashes and reach for his collar and say in my best French accent, "Well, well, well, what do we have here? Can't say I am sorry now."

He smirks and looks right into my eyes, and I wait for him to react, but he doesn't.

He instead picks up my curl and twirls it around his finger before dropping and looks down at my boobs before returning to my face and asks me if I am from around here, and I have to restrain myself from punching him in his smug face—such an idiot.

I can't believe I slept with him.

"Just in town, my date is in town for business," I answer.

He looks at my face and answers with, "Isn't he a little old for you?"

I shrug, "Have to pay the bills, someway."

He nods and takes my hand and draws circles on it before asking me to come with him, which I obey.

We walk the halls, and I have to keep reminding myself to regulate my breathing; otherwise, my palms will sweat, and he will be alerted.

Always must be in control.

We reach a room, and he uses a touch screen that scans his palm and the door clicks open, where he pushes the door open and gestures for me to walk through, which I do.

He walks to a minibar, and I reach down and grab the gun strapped to my leg as he begins pouring drinks in glasses while asking me white or red. As I am taking aim and as I am about to click the safety off, he goes, "Are you really going to shoot me again, Clary?"

* * *

** FLASHBACK  **

** 10 YEARS AGO  **

"You shot me?"

"Shhhh," and I walk over to my bag, pulling a white T-shirt out.

I press the shirt to the wound on his arm, trying to absorb the blood enough for it to look real enough for later.

"Was that really necessary? You know the number of people that is going to attract?"

I shrug as I put the shirt away and toss it on my bag before pulling the medical kit out.

"I think we have 5 minutes before they arrive, giving me enough time to stitch your arm and leave."

"Why did I have to be the one getting shot?"

"I already had my gun trained, plus I don't know how good your aim is. I rather not have another scar, plus this was only a flesh wound get over it" as I cut the strings and stand up and quickly gather my stuff.

I am always out the door when he grabs my arm, and I almost flip him over. I hiss, but he doesn't let go and instead asks, "Where are you going?"

"Didn't you hear? Nashville, I only have 24 hours. I need to get to the airport before my contact is off and can't smuggle me through security. Doesn't look right carrying a bunch of knives, a bloody t-shirt and guns."

I try to move, but his fingers don't budge, and I look up into his golden eyes that cause my insides to flutter.

"I am coming with you," he declares.

"Now you aren't," as I wave the t-shirt in front of him, "'You are dead. Go live your life; I got this"

"You can't go in without backup," he says as he finally drops my arm.

"I have never needed backup, and I am not going to need it now," I say as I march to the door.

"You are going to get it, either way, so stop fighting me. We have the same contact, I imagine." I sigh and walk out the door, and he follows closely behind me.

* * *

** Present  **

"What is a little reunion without a bit of bloodshed?" I say.

"You almost had me fooled, but your face is one I will never forget. What is it that I can do for you?" he asks, spinning around with two glasses of red wine in his hands.

"'I came for answers," I say, and he raises an eyebrow.

"What is the question?"

"Why did you kill my brother? especially after what I did for you," I say, and as I keep my voice even

A flash of horror crosses his face, and he pales.

Yeah, buddy, I figured it out.

"I didn't know," He shutters, and I roll my eyes.

"The note was addressed from Valentine, there were only 3 people who left that room and knew what we did, and it can't be me. So, it has to be you," I declare, training my gun on his head and clicking the safety off.

"Wait for a second," he says and then asks, "You think I killed your brother?"

"I know you did."

"No, I did not. Why would I do that?" placing the glasses down, and he runs a hand through this hair; well, all habits die hard.

I shrug, "That is what I want to know; why, after almost 9 years, did you track us down and kill him and not me?"

"Jesus Clary, I did not kill Jonathan. I have been trying to stay away from that world."

"Not doing a good job of that," as my eyes flicker around the room briefly.

Now it is his turn to roll his eyes as he says, "No, I cleaned up my act and got a decent job."

"You call this a decent job?" I question as I dramatically wave my free hand and continue with, "You work for a crime lord again. What do you expect me to save you from this one too?"

He rolls his eyes, "Clary, you are out of line here. I wouldn't hurt you like that, and I have no reason to. I am sorry to hear about your brother but know somewhere inside of you knows I didn't do it."

"Don't try to get out of this; you kill my brother, and I find you working in crime again. I thought I broke the cycle."

He sighs and answers with, "Can you just put the gun away before you accidentally shoot me, I haven't been shot in a while, and I would like to keep it that way." I don't move, so he rolls his eyes and says, "I did not hurt Jon for crying out loud, I hadn't tried to find you since you disappeared in Manhattan when your mom passed away, and I figured you did not want to be found since you completely disappeared. But otherwise, I haven't tried to see you since you yet again disappeared from me in the cloak of darkness at the motel in Clarksville's that night. You have a real disappearing act happening."

"You tracked me to Manhattan," I state and find myself question my abilities. Am I getting rusty?

He decides I probably won't shoot and walks over to a chair and sits down, wine in hand and answers with, "You are pretty hard to track, don't worry. Jocelyn made it easier with her heath, but you covered most of it up." he says then features to my hair before saying, "Your hair gives you away most of the time, and you slipped up and used my last name for some reason outside of Kansa, and it got flagged, so I searched for you and followed you from a year before the disappearance Manhattan, Denver, Chicago, San Diego, but you always went back to Manhattan where your mother was. So, the question is, why did you use my name?"

I find myself stunned by the information that he noticed the name and how much he followed me. I don't lower my gun, but I answer with, "My reasons are my reasons."

"Clary, Our time together was-" but I cut him off by yelling.

"We weren't together, and I came here for revenge, not to chit chat."

He places his empty wine glass down and looks me in the eyes, and goes, "When is the last time you spoke to someone as your true self?" I remain silent as he continues to analyze me, "Your therapist, maybe?"

"How did you know about that?"

He shrugs and answers with "I was tracking you remember,"

I nod; not everything can be hidden when you are paying with dirty money.

"Have you slept? Because I can see the purples under those eyes even with the layers of makeup, you are wearing"

I keep quiet because he is right. I haven't slept in months with my soul purpose being dedicated to Jon's murder. Where I experience nightmares where I have to tap my mouth shut each night to stop the screaming. Then when I wake up for the third time, I give up on sleep and focus on research.

He doesn't wait for me to answer and instead nods, then stands up before heading over to the bar, then returns with the wine bottle, pours his glass and holds mine out to me.

I inch closer, keeping my gun drawn, and pick the glass up, bringing it to my lips as I continue to keep eye contact with Jace in case he tries to pull something on me.

"I find it really saddening you didn't find peace, and you would think I would kill Jon. I have no reason to. You didn't want me coming to the warehouse, but I was your backup because I knew somewhere deep inside of you cared that's why you killed your father; I know you could have just vanished, you wanted to at the gas station to the airport."

I roll my eyes and drink my wine, "I was trying to protect you; you should have left me at that gas station and vanished."

"You know you didn't want to be alone. You mumbled it in your sleep."

First time I hear about this.

"Whatever I said, I didn't mean, so don't be delusional."

He now rolls his eyes the first time in a while and fills his glass with some more wine, and drinks a sip because commenting back with, "Words are words. They mean nothing, got it. How can I prove I didn't kill him?"

The sentence 'Words are words' repeats in my mind as I fall into memory.

* * *

** Flashback  **

I wake from my nap, and I look over a Jace driving and see him look at me with sympathy?

"What?" I snap, and the sympathy flashes out of his eyes.

"Are you sure you are okay?" he asks.

"Of course."

"You know, almost 24 hours ago, you were a lot nicer and open. What happened to that version of you?" he asks.

I shrug and answer coldly with, "I was playing you; that wasn't me."

"None of it as real?" he asks.

"Telling half-truths is the easiest lie, you should know working with Valentine. They become easier to remember and often explain why you are a certain way."

"So, you were hurt and fell into Valentine's lifestyle because of your family?"

Well, he isn't wrong.

"I am not talking about this with you, so stop asking and just drive; after this, we will not see each other, so stop trying to get to know me" I snap and throw my legs up onto the dashboard of the red truck and stare out the window.

"I know you say that, but words are words. I see your actions, and they tell a different store."

Those are the last words he speaks to me.

We stop at a gas station, and I think about running and getting another ride, but I don't. Instead, I break into another vehicle and steal it, forcing Jace to abandon his truck because it is more noticeable if Valentine is tracking us.

Throughout this whole ride to the airport is in silence, just how I like it.

It is easier this way.

Until we are met by Bat, who sneaks us onto the plane, and we take off.

My hand's harsh grip the seat as I try to stabilize myself and breathe.

Instead, I panic.

Jace is in the back and doesn't witness this because I find myself falling into a hole of darkness that is my soul.

I react quickly and stab myself with a sedative and fall asleep.

Only to be woken up by someone shaking my shoulder, and my immediate reaction is to punch them, which I do.

The man yells, and it takes me a moment to realize through my cloudy vision I punched Jace.

He recovers quickly and glares at me, but I see a look of concern in his eyes.

I just smile back.

Words are words.

* * *

** Present  **

"Are you okay?" he asks, and I shake myself.

"Sure, now explain to me how you didn't kill Jon and how you claim to be out of the crime world only to be working for Magnus freaking Bane?"

"It is a long story."

"I got time because you aren't leaving this room until-" then I am cut off by the gunfire and screaming that comes from downstairs.

"Jesus," and Jace jumps from the couch and pulls his gun from his waist and races from the room, and I find myself following him, and we make it to the hallway before he realizes I am behind me and he glares and walks back to me and whispers "What do you think you are doing?"

"We need to talk."

And he rolls his eyes, "Yeah, those words never sound good coming out of a women's mouth, and especially not good when gunshots are being fired. You need to stay here and not intervene; I don't exactly trust you right now."

"You don't trust me?"

"Well, in the two times we have met, you have aimed a gun at me each time, and last time you shot me. So, I am a bit skeptical about your intentions, and I really don't want to get shot again by you. so, stay here, so help me, god."

With that, he takes off, and I tap my foot for 30 seconds before I race after him in my dress knife from my leg in hand with my gun drawn as I round each corner until I am back at the balcony, carefully walking over until I can see over the edge without being seen by the voices I hear from down below.

As I look over, I see the ballroom floor now empty with some people crouched around the sides of the dance floor by the tables, and on the dance floor is Jace, Magnus, a brown-haired man all on one side; meanwhile, there is a small army of men on the otherwise all with guns risen at one another.

Great a standoff. Just what I want.

"We aren't here for you, Mr. Bane. We are here for Herondale, so just allow us to leave peacefully."

"Excuse me?" he questions, and I know deep down this isn't going to go well. "You want me to hand over my best bodyguard to you after you come and disturb my party, which was fantastic, by the way, and you didn't even have the decency to wait until the end. You shot up the place, and I am in no position to attempt negotiations. Try again later," Bane yells back at them, waving his arms dramatically, and I see him looking at all the exits, and his gold eyes catch mine for a second he breaks the connections.

Okay, so he knows I am here. Does Jace?

If Jace had similar training to me, he would know to check, but as I look at him now, he doesn't look like he is breathing with how he is so incredibly still with his gun trained on one of the guys across from them.

The man in black steps forward again and, this time lowers his gun and says, "We just want Herondale, then you can continue your party."

"What for?" Bane asks as I slowly make my way over to the other side of the edge to get behind the guards from above.

"He is wanted for his crimes."

"'What crimes?" and I find myself trying not to laugh since little do they know there are so many.

"He killed Valentine Morgenstern, and he needs to be taken in," and I freeze and barely avoid stepping on a piece of glass as I finally get behind the military-styled guys.

Apparently, Jace and I aren't the only living people who know about the warehouse.

"That man died over a decade ago; why are you just coming now?" asks Bane, and I feel the tension begin to build from the opposition.

"None of that is relevant. He killed our leader, and he needs to pay, so send him over," the leader snaps. Great, They're growing impatient, meaning he is going to become unpredictable really soon.

So I step forward and train my gun one of the soldiers and reach under my dress for another knife. I look up and glance around the room, trying to see count how many civilians are here. My guess is 30, but who knows how many are under the tables or in far corners.

"What evidence do you have?" asks Bane, as he looks at me for a second, and Jace seems to catch onto his behaviour because he looks his eyes from the leader and looks up at me for a second and although his emotionless face doesn't give anything away, something in his eyes changed and even though it is hard to tell from my position it looked like fear. I don't think it was fear for himself.

I think it was fear for him.

"You don't need to know Bane, so leave it alone."

As soon as those words leave his mouth, I send my knife into one of the guard's neck that was left exposed, and he falls to the ground but not before I have shot the one beside him in the neck, sending him flying to the floor.

They react and fire back at me, forgetting about the three people in front of them; as they shoot at me, a bullet hits my leg going through my lovely dress, just glazing me.

So much for using this dress again.

Years of torture means I can ignore that pain; however, the blood is going to be a problem for me getting out of here.

I move back to my position to take a look and find the three standing their ground with only the leader left with his hands up.

So, all the people managed to rush out during that mess.

"Are you okay?" Jace calls up to me, and I roll my eyes.

"Don't worry; I was the one-shot this time."

"Can you walk?" he yells, but his eyes don't move from the leader in front of him.

"Yes, but I'll stay here. Been a while since I have seen a show." I call back, causing Jace to roll his eyes now.

"And who are you that shot my men?" calls the leader.

"I think it is more of a question of who are you? Why do you want such revenge for Valentine?" I ask.

"I worked for him, and I owed him my life; So, when I found video evidence of Herondale here being there for his death, I had to come."

Great, another cult member who thinks he owes his life to Valentine.

"Hate to break it to you, but the man wasn't god, and he used you. Move on while you can still walk."

"Go away, little girl, you aren't apart of this"

I started belly laughing, and I stand on my leg and go to the edge so he can watch me.

"Oh, sweetie. I am more a part of this than you will ever know." with that, I put my gun on the edge and take my contacts out and rip my dark wig off and pulling my cap off, allowing my red curls to be free.

Everyone but Jace looks at me in shock.

"You are in the video. You are Valentine's daughter."

"Yes, Valentine was my sperm donor. So, this video had audio? How convenient for you? Maybe if you had listened, you'd know Jace didn't kill him."

"We know, we killed the man who pulled the trigger, your brother."

Red flashes in my soul, and the next thing I know, I aim my gun and shoot him in the kneecap to he is immobile as I race to the stairs so he can die painfully.

I storm up to the man crumbled on the floor but not before Jace grabs my arm to stop me, but I jump back just like if he had burned me, but he lets go, and looks me in the eye and says, "Don't let him turn you dark."

"I am already dark," I answer and turn to the man on the floor and lift my gown, taking another knife out.

I press it to the man's throat and whisper for only him to hear, "Give me a reason not to slice your throat right now."

He whispers back with, "There are others out for your head too."

I freeze and look into his eyes, trying to see the lie but see nothing.

Crap.

I press the knife harder and ask, "How many?"

"Hundreds have seen the video."

At this moment, Jace finally speaks up and asks, "Where was the video taken?"

"Camera was on the table focused on Valentine as he ate his last meal, the signal was sent back to me after a day, and I had to watch him die."

"Poor you, you have blood on your hands. You deserve it," I snap back.

From under my blade, he says, "So do you, princess."

I lose it and whisper, "At least I don't worship a dead man," and with that, I slice his throat, and I hear someone gag, as blood sprays my dress and I take a step back, and Jace walks up beside me and puts his hand in front of him and shows me that he is going to put a hand on my shoulder.

I allow it as we look at the bodies of several men my father ruined.

* * *

I continue to have nightmares of the night in the ballroom combined with memories of the night in the warehouse, with Jonathan haunting me.

But after several years, they fade when I sleep next to Jace.

A year after I went back to therapy and begun getting back to my normal.

That is when Jace showed up, and I tossed him on his back and pressed a knife to his throat.

He laughed and made a joke saying he always ends up like this with me.

I ignored him and allowed him up.

He confessed that he has just finished his job being undercover with Magnus, Alec and himself to take down a crime lord. It turns out Magnus being a crime lord was a well-done cover that took years to build.

I share that I had spent a year tracking down several of Valentine's followers and take a few of them out, and Jace tells me he found some as well.

The ones I don't kill get thrown into a cell.

They just keep growing.

Every few weeks, I research a new target and go for it, then when I return, I do some self-care.

This continues even when I discover Jace is a cop and doesn't say anything when I am gone for weeks on end.

He knows I was given immunity when I said I would testify; it was a deal Jace had to get for me to keep me out of being thrown into a dark cell.

Another reason I have to remind him I am too damaged to be with him.

He disagrees as he holds me crying several times a week.

It took us a while to get to this point, where I could finally let my guard down and allow him to touch me without me jumping.

In our two years of being together, we don't have sex and instead work on building one another.

One day I might feel comfortable, but my nightmares still plunge me and sometimes I spend hours scrubbing my skin from fingers that used to touch me, abuse me, and make me hate myself.

Now 4 years after reconnecting at the ball, I am sleeping through the night more and feel myself finally healing and use the coping mechanism I had gathered almost 9 years ago.

I still miss my mom and Jon, but I am happy they didn't have to see me crumble into pieces. I just hope they watched me build myself back up and try and make something of myself.

I lay in bed now with a smile on my face as I look at Jace's features tracing them with my finger lightly.

Maybe one day I will be me and finally be able to show this man I love him physically.

However, that is not today.

He is okay with that and respects me.

I am grateful for that.

Today I feel adventurous, and I roll on top of him and smile.

He opens his eyes, and he smiles and says, "What, no knife?"

I laugh and say, "Never again. Only steps forward."

To think our story begin almost 15 years ago, and now we are here. Two people designed to kill one another actually save one another. It makes me regret nothing, even when it caused me to lose myself.

Only steps forward.

_The End_

* * *

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: There is so much I want to sayyyyyyy. THIS IS THE END FOR REAL. So please review and show support.
> 
> So it was clace at the end, and they are both working on healing. Clary is an emotional mess still, and as you see, she doesn't magically heal. So it is up to you what happens next for them.  
> Sorry to everyone who wanted Jon and Jocelyn; I had to kill them to make Clary dark for her to find Jace.  
> I don't want to let go of these characters, but it needs to happen. I am thinking of a Bonnie and Clyde styled one for the future.  
> In over a week, I will be posting part 2 to manipulation. School is picking up, so I am trying to get all these things done.  
> Follow me on IG vmarslover for updates, notifications. Etc.  
> If anything is unclear, feel free to message me on here or on Instagram, I will always check.  
> Disclaimer: I do not own TMI, nor do I have a beta. So ignore grammar and beta.  
> Stay Safe!

**Author's Note:**

> AN:
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! Who saw that coming? I did. Hehe. I left so many clues. If you enjoyed this I can post more, but otherwise I'll leave it as a one shot. Make sure to leave a comment, follow, and Kudos.
> 
> This was based on "A serial killer who kills hitchhikers picks up a serial killer who kills the people who pick him up"


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